The finish on the trim beneath our coffee and beer mug cupboard has evapourated. The oak is bare. The strip of wood is directly above the place on the kitchen counter where the kettle boils and steams. The top rims of the doors beneath the sink are equally grey from shaken dishwater hands, slopping pots and damp tea towels. The minor maintenance can wait until it’s too cold to go outside for any reason other than a quick cigarette.
The city is awash in shades of green and gold with warmer accents of burgundy and the iron oranges of rust and decay. You suspect most of Alberta looks this way today. The growing season is over and here’s hoping a healthy harvest is all in despite September snows. The sky is the idealistic blue of song, too perfect to be real. The sun feels hotter on your skin than you’d expect. The wind is up and whatever is being carried on it smells good.